


Show Me How It's Done

by redstaronmyshoulder (CaptainAmelia22)



Category: Marvel
Genre: F/M, Sexual Experimentation, Trading Partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:50:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4863785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAmelia22/pseuds/redstaronmyshoulder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The super-soldiers seem interchangeable to her sometimes; both of them are super-strong, super-masculine, just super in general.  </p><p>But there are things she wonders about.  </p><p>Kissing namely.  </p><p>"What's it like, kissing Barnes?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me How It's Done

“What’s it like, kissing Barnes?”

Natasha glances up from her rifle scope and scowls over at the blonde agent laying on her back beside her, arms folded behind her head.  

“Excuse me?” she asks, her voice just as quietly deadly as ever.  The blonde doesn’t even blink at the venom though.  Just glances at her with a smirk.  

“You heard me Romanov,” she says, brown eyes sparkling with her own particular dark humor. “What’s it like, kissing Barnes?”

Natasha just sighs and goes back to her rifle and the mark she’s been trading off watching with the woman lying down beside her. 

“Kissing James is a lot like kissing Steve, Sharon,” she says and she smiles to herself when Sharon stiffens in surprise.  

“It’s hot.”  

**

Somehow Barnes and Steve are the only ones left at her Halloween party; Steve of course, is a given.  Since he kind of lives with her.  But Barnes…

“Can I get you another beer, Barnes?” she asks with a sigh as she eases out of the killer red stilettos Natasha made her wear with her “Betty Draper” costume (It’s just a dress she found at Goodwill that afternoon that sort of resembles some of the dresses she’d seen in photos of her Aunt Angie from way back in the day).  

The dark haired man glances up at her from where he bends over a half-filled garbage bag and she shivers as his eyes once more sweep her, taking in the petticoat just peaking out from the hem of her dress, to the way her breasts press against the bright red buttons of the navy blue blouse. 

He smiles and shrugs one shoulder-the one without the metal-and drawls as he straightens, “I wouldn’t mind a cold one from such a pretty little thing.”  

Sharon snorts at that, rolling her eyes and punches him lightly in the kidneys.  “Ease up James Dean,” she says before heading for the kitchen and the fridge and its much depleted stock of beer.  

Steve grins at her from the sink and the mountain of dishes he’s patiently scrubbing and bends down to kiss her cheek.  “Hey neighbor,” he says as tries to catch his lips for a deeper kiss and he smiles when she grumbles under her breath at her failing.  

Being 5′7″ when surrounded by men a good 6 inches taller than her, gets old super fast.  

But whatever.  

“Beer,” she says triumphantly, handing the icy bottle to Barnes, who grins at her and pops the cap off easily with just a flick of his metal thumb.

“Thanks, Carter,” he says, leaning his hip casually against the counter between her and Steve.  The two men share a glance she and Natasha call “the bro look” and his lips curl as he turns back to face her.  

“So,” he drawls, that strange New England accent that has a touch of something else hidden in its depths washing over her. “You want to kiss me, huh?”

She chokes on her own beer and almost drops the bottle; Steve smiles at her as steadies the brown glass and kisses her thumb before turning back to the sink.  She honestly didn’t even see him move to catch her beer but just like everything else involving Steve Rogers, she’s not surprised that he’s got her back once more.

“Wh-what?” she sputters, back up a step from the two men, one dressed like a slightly darker version of James Dean, the other in the shambles of what was meant to be a Van Gogh costume.  “I don’t-I don’t want to  _kiss_  you Barnes!” she rasps, trying to laugh the heat in her cheeks, his eyes away. 

She’s glad she kicked those damn heels off before coming into the kitchen.  Her legs are trembling.

And James Barnes is smiling down at her, that knowing gleam in his eyes and Steve is laughing deep in his chest as he pulls the drain and lets the water drain between his fingers.  

“I’ve never wanted to kiss you,  _ever_  James Buchanan Barnes!”

James Barnes, bastard that he is just follows her across the kitchen and rests his hands by her hips, penning her in at the breakfast table.  His lips are curled in that daring smirk she only sees him share with Natasha when they’re about to do something extremely stupid and her heart starts to race.  

In the corner of her eye she can see Steve leaning against the counter, his lips curled as well and those ice-blue eyes seem to glow with a heat she knows so very well.

Her legs turn to water at the sight, at the heady masculine scent of Barnes washing over her now and she shivers.  

“Stop lying Carter,” Barnes growls and she can hear the humor he’s struggling to keep at bay.  She knows he won’t push her, not really.  

Not unless she  _wants_ him too.

 _Do I though?_  she wonders briefly as she drags her eyes away from Steve’s to meet the man’s looming over her, all dark heat and knowing humor.  

_Do I really want to kiss James Buchanan Barnes?_

She is suddenly reminded of Natasha and that last mission they went on when she asked in total confidence what it was like to kiss this man. 

And Nat’s parting words.

_It’s hot._

This is a stupid battle to fight, she realizes as his fingers rise to stroke along the knobs in her spine and Steve moves to pull a chair out from under the table to sit beside her. 

The best seat in the house.  

“Fine,” she snaps, no anger in her voice.  “I want to kiss you.  But only,” she snarls as his grin becomes triumphant and he leans his hard, heated body against hers, hips pressing her legs apart as he does.  She slams her palm into his chest, striving to keep him in place.  Which is stupid.

This is a super-soldier.

She’s had one just like him in her bed for well-over a year now. 

She’ll never be able to stop either of them.

 _Why would I ever_ want  _to?_

The thought washes over her as he sighs and just rests against her palm, fingers tight at the base of her skull and she can feel Steve pressing against her as well, their musky scents twining together, overwhelming her as one and she almost groans as that liquid feeling in her legs moves to her core.  

_Oh god, help me…_

_“_ Only what, Carter?” Barnes growls, his warm breath washing over her exposed collar bones and his mouth is inches from her skin, from her jawline, from her throat.  

Rough stubble rasps over her suddenly sensitive skin and she almost loses it right there and then.

But she just pushes against him and drags his chin up so she can see his eyes.

“Only as a comparison, Barnes,” she snaps, her voice trembling only a little bit as those brown eyes narrow and he glances in Steve’s direction.  

Steve just nods his head and wraps his arm gently around her ass, grounding her right there on their breakfast table.

No chance of escape.

No chance…

“So kiss me,” she says, her own dangerous heat in her voice and her legs are parting all the way for his hard body and she’s leaning against Steve’s arm, her brain scrambling as they press against her as one.  

Forming one entity she knows she will never have any hope of distinguishing as James Barnes leans closer to her and that rough stubble grazes her skin.  

These are super soldiers.

Two men made of far stronger stock than she.

How could she ever fight them and hope to win.  

He kisses her.

And goddamn, but Natasha Romanova is  _right._

It’s primal.

It’s wicked.

His tongue works hers with a skill that leaves her limp to the point where she’d probably have slid off the table if Steve hadn’t been there holding her in place.

His fingers tangle in her hair, dislodging bobby pins and curls, and his thighs are like marble against the gentle give of her own.  

The cold metal of his left arm locks her in place and she gasps, yielding entirely to his teeth, his tongue, his damn powerful mouth.

It’s so different from kissing Steve.

But not at the same time.

There’s the unyielding strength which Steve has in droves.  

There’s the sheer power of the muscles flexing under her gripping fingers and shaking thighs.  

There’s the desperation borne of too many years being broken, of being abandoned.  

This is like kissing Steve Rogers. 

And yet… _not._

Natasha was right.

It’s…

“Hot,” a cool voice purrs from the kitchen doorway and Sharon gasps as suddenly Barnes’ presence leaves hers and it’s just Steve holding her upright.

Natasha leans in the doorway, still in her uniform and there is dirt in her hair and blood on her cheek.  

But Barnes still stares at her like he’s seen Cinderella for the first time at the Ball.  

“So how was it, Carter?” she asks as she moves into the circle of her partner’s arms and he presses his lips to her neck.  

Sharon just laughs breathlessly and leans into her own partner’s steady, rock-hard embrace. 

“Hot,” she says with a small smile and a gentle press of swollen lips to Steve’s jaw.  “But I think I’ll take my super-soldier over yours any day, Widow.”  

Natasha just smiles and strokes Barnes’ cheek.  “Good to know,” she says in her husky voice, green cat eyes sparkling as he begins to tug her from the kitchen.  “I’ve killed for less, in the past.”

Sharon just shivers as the disappear, their voices pitched low as they talk together in Russian and she turns in the circle of Steve’s arms.  

“I’m sorry,” she says as he gazes down at her, his blue eyes expressionless as he pulls her into his lap.  “I don’t-didn’t really.  Steve, I-”

He kisses her then, right there in the safety and warmth of their kitchen and it’s so similar to the kiss she just shared with his best friend.

Her best friend’s partner.

And yet…it’s not.

It’s hot.

And it’s hers.  

All hers.  


End file.
